


Broken Melody

by rraimie



Category: Shinhwa
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:23:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rraimie/pseuds/rraimie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PLEASE READ THIS FIRST: <b>Trigger potencial</b>. Suicidal content</p>
    </blockquote>





	Broken Melody

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THIS FIRST: **Trigger potencial**. Suicidal content

You felt like crumbling. This hasn’t been your day, your week, your month and possibly it wasn’t even your life anymore. Your knees were wobbly, your floor seemed inviting and you just wanted to give up oh so badly. Your face was frozen and your gaze was lost. You knew you were home, even though you couldn’t really see; your eyes wouldn’t focus and you didn’t care. Only god knows _–that is if he actually exists–_ how long you stayed there, next to your living room door staring at your window without really seeing anything. It wasn’t until you felt a soft material touch your bare knees that you realized you were now crumbled next to the small couch you hated. You collapsed on the floor; tempting thoughts of cold surfaces, empty glasses and sharp objects filled your tormented mind.

“I can’t do this anymore” a soft whisper escaped your plump lips; gaze on the ceiling, fist clenched.

“It’s been twenty years and nothing has changed” your body felt numb, so useless and weak that you couldn’t move, not that you wanted to.

“I can’t keep hiding this from him… I’m supposed to make him happy, to bring joy to his life” your thoughts were all over the place; _cold surfaces, empty glasses, sharp objects._

The image of your mom suddenly came to your mind; years of an emotional rollercoaster. At age 8 you saw her cut her wrists. At age 12 you saw her OD'd... How many times you saw those scenarios before you were 17, you couldn’t remember.

The images of your big fight at age 18; all the screaming, the crying, the regret… The exact moment you decided you were not going to be like her… But what can you do if it runs in your blood? You have no way out, do you?

“Cold surfaces and empty glasses” You closed your eyes, letting darkness embrace you. “Sharp and shiny objects” you sighed, _were you really going to do this?_

You got up, you couldn’t keep this up, life wasn’t worth living anymore. What for? Oh, _him._

“He can do better” you said in a low voice.

“ _He deserves better_ ” you chanted those three words on your way to the bathroom.

The walls seemed smaller, the apartment was darker. Even the tiniest light bothered you. You wanted complete darkness; you needed a blackout.

You reached the secluded bathroom door with nothing more than shiny silver objects in your mind; objects that were probably going to mark your skin for the last time.

You felt so small inside of that huge bathroom, barefoot in the middle of the cold ceramic floor that seemed to whisper to you; it was like those little silver squares were calling out your name and inviting you to lay there, to familiarize yourself with the cold you have been longing for a lifetime.

You tried to ignore the voices in your head, the whispering floor, and looked at your reflection in the mirror: you were hideous. Your eyes were puffy for the little sleep you’ve been getting these past months. You looked so pale, like you were already a walking corpse. How were you going to face him like this? There is no way you would let Junjin see you like this. You clearly didn’t deserve him.

You didn’t even know how you got the pretty little razorblade that you were holding so carefully, almost affectively, with your tiny delicate hands. You were such a cynical bitch, you scolded a lot of childhood friends for even trying what you’re about to do… You got mad at your mother uncountable times for hurting herself… You hated visiting the hospital; you hated to see her lying down on those pink beds with a nauseating aura. But here you were, about to end it once and for all… there was only one problem, you couldn’t get Junjin out of your mind. And you honestly didn’t want to do this with his image still on your mind. Junjin…

The thought of him paralyzed you. You froze; silent tears streamed down your face as you looked at them fall through the mirror. You couldn’t stand this, you were pathetic.

“I don’t have the strength to do this anymore” you broke down; sorrowful sobs now filled the bathroom walls. The floor finally got what it wanted: your warm body now in fetal position absorbing its cold, merging with it.

You stayed there, staring at nothing still with the small razorblade in your hand. The cold floor didn’t even bothered you, you felt at home.

Your deplorable state made you miss the sound of a door being slowly opened and then silently closed. There was only one thing you wanted to do, and it was to finish this before somebody could stop you.

“_______, are you home?” he was in your living room; cheerful steps could be easily heard. But to you, the only sound that mattered was the blood dripping on the bathroom ceramics.  
His steps were getting closer, he was near you and you couldn’t even feel his presence anymore; the razorblade slowly caressing your milky skin.

“She hasn’t arrived yet?” when he thought you weren’t back from work yet, the bathroom door opened to reveal his worst nightmare.

Junjin froze. His heart stopped when he saw your bleeding self sitting next to the bathroom sink. He couldn’t understand what was going on. He wanted to scream, he wanted to do so many things but his body wouldn’t move.

You weren’t even aware of his presence.

 _“I’m so sorry, Choongjae”_ his heart sunk. No, you were not doing this. It’s all a bad dream, and he wanted to wake up right now, he demanded to be awoken from this hellish nightmare.

 _“I know I don’t deserve it, but I wish you can forgive me one day”_ that brought him back to reality; muffled tears now streaming down his face. He ran to you, but you still wouldn’t look at him.

How long have you been suffering in silence? He blamed himself, he should’ve noticed… He should’ve done something. You were his beloved girlfriend for fuck’s sake, how could he be so stupid.

He kicked the razorblade from your hand and you broke down once more.

You knew you had failed. You couldn’t look at him. You were ashamed of yourself for being so weak, for being a pathetic and worthless human being.

“_____, look at me” tears kept streaming down your pale face, still not facing him. How can you look at him after what he just saw?

“Look at me, dammit!” he kneeled beside you, taking your now wounded wrist with one hand, making you face him with the other.

How could you hurt such a precious being? You kept wondering why you were still alive, what was he doing here, why has he stopped you? He should’ve left you to die…

“I’m sorry” you said in between breaths.

He wanted to scream, to fucking yell at you. He needed answers, and he needed them right this instant… But he knew better; the right time had yet to come.

In an attempt to stop the bleeding, he traced your wounded wrist with his fingers, but the cold reality slapped him in the face. You needed a hospital.

Carrying you on his back, he tried to say this as composed as possible; miserably failing, voice cracking.

“We are going to fix this. I swear to fucking god that we are going to fix this. I’m sorry”

But in reality, the only thing he wanted to let you know…

_“If you leave, I’m leaving with you”_

 

 

 

 


End file.
